


Wings of a Butterfly

by MissTLock



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Drug Use, F/M, I LOVE HAPPY ENDINGS, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, Underage Drinking, an author with no idea how much drugs actually cost, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTLock/pseuds/MissTLock
Summary: Finding herself spiraling downwards, Max goes to the only person she feels can help her. Maybe in the fall, you find your wings. Or maybe you hit pavement.
Relationships: Frank Bowers/Maxine "Max" Caulfield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Wings of a Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> I always save Chloe. 
> 
> I started writing this fic YEARS ago, adding little bits here and there and forgetting about it. (Like, ffnet didn't have a Frank option for character selection in their search back then.) I finally "finished" it about a year ago. I kept thinking I'd add a good ending, but I figured this is as good as it's going to get. 
> 
> Hope people like it!

Pompidou was the first out of the RV. The dog took a moment to sniff her out, then leaned against her as if wanting to be petted.

Max smiled softly. At least the dog liked her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Frank said, with his usual elegance. Honestly, he didn't even know her in this timeline, what was his problem?

It took half a second for her to figure out what to say. These days she didn't necessarily care all that much how people reacted to her, but she was at Frank's lovely RV for a reason, and pissing him off wasn’t going to get her what she wanted at all. 

“Some of my classmates say you can… Hook me up.” Max kept looking down at Pompidou, running her hand between his ears. 

Frank snorted. She could feel his eyes stare her down, but she still kept looking towards the dog. He would either help her or not. She'd rather go straight from the source, but Justin could probably get her the same stuff. 

“You're from that prissy bitch school, right?” Frank looked her over and she finally met his eyes. 

“Blackwell, yeah.” 

The two looked at each other for a tense moment, though Max couldn't tell exactly why it was so. 

“Fuck it, what do you want?” 

-

Max had made rules for herself. She would be completely there in class. She would do her homework. She wouldn’t let Joyce, David, or her parents know. 

She couldn’t lose herself. The memories she had were important, even if she hated them most of the time. Tried to ignore them, when they weren't forcing themselves to the front of her mind. It wasn't easy, but that was why she had Frank and what he could provide her.

Still all the rules did not stop her from showing up in front of Frank's RV again. This time out of her memories. And her mind. 

Maybe she was lucky that she had sounded so sane through text. Or maybe not. She was five shots down, and realized that her stash was empty. Frank hadn't seemed to notice her state of mind, not that Max thought he would care anyway. That wasn't Frank. He cared about his money. And his dog. That was it.

“Where’s the money?” 

_ Frank and his bank _ , Max thought, almost disappointed that her "punsome" brain didn’t like to work as well as it usually did. “Well” was a relative term, depending on who you asked, though. 

Shoving a hand into her pocket, Max pulled out a wad of bills. Unfortunately they slipped from her hand, spilling on the pavement. Pompidou sniffed at bill, then stepped back, giving her a disappointed look, as if he expected treats to fall out. The dog wasn’t far off, honestly. Max liked to bring him treats when she could. 

Huffing to herself, she fell to her knees, reaching to pick up the dropped money. There was a sting to her knees that made it past the fuzz in her brain telling her that she was going to feel that drop sober. She decided against standing again, holding up the money for Frank to take. 

Frank grabbed the money and gave her a confused and disdainful look. “The fuck are you on, Max?” 

Something about that made her giggle. “Just some of that dank bud, bro.” She pitched her voice low. It didn’t necessarily work, as by the end of her phrase she collapsed even farther into giggles, falling back, knees still bent so that her feet rested near her waist as she laid on the ground. 

“I’m not selling to you like this,” Frank stated, voice a little dark. 

That was a cold bucket of water all over her buzz. “What?” 

“You fuckin’ heard me. You wanna get yourself killed, do it with your own shit,” he told her. “Too many fucking kids are dead in this town already.” The last was muttered to himself, but Max still heard. 

Her heart squeezed. She sat up, slumping her shoulders and resting her hands in her lap. The wound was still fresh, and her eyes welled with tears. 

Chloe in the bathroom, Kate on the roof, Rachel in the junkyard, Victoria in the Dark Room, Nathan's voicemail in the car… 

“Please,” Max begged quietly, “I’m only drunk. I just want some weed. Promise.” 

Pompidou leaned into her side. She loved that dog. 

Maybe it was because she looked a pitiful sight, but the next thing she knew Frank was pulling her up by the arm and dragging her into his RV. It was too sudden for her to struggle. A blink and she was sitting in the passenger seat of the RV, which was turned to looking towards the bedroom. Max blinked. 

“Why am I here?” She asked, leaning forward to put her head between her knees. “I didn't know this chair turned.” 

“How much have you had?” Frank asked. There was the sound of junk banging together and it made Max’s head spin. 

With her head still down, Max held up five fingers. “High five shots?” She asked, pushing her hand towards where she assumed Frank was standing. Her shoulders shook silently from laughter. 

With no warning Frank pushed her head up. Her eyes widened as her shoulders hit the seat and the palm of Frank’s hand grazed the top of her vision. 

_ “Stay still, Max. You know how important this shot is.”  _

Any part of her happy go lucky buzz disappeared like a snapping rubber band. She jerked her head away from Frank’s hand, gripping her stomach as it rolled slightly. Her vision swam in front of her, making it seem like the RV was actually driving. 

“Get the  _ fuck _ away from me,” Max muttered, using her free hand to slap Frank’s arm away. She glared at his swaying form. She tried to push down the raw fear and adrenaline pumping through her veins, but didn’t have very much luck. The very thing she used to dull her memories kept her from being able to push them back down. 

When she closed her eyes to keep out the spinning world, she felt Frank back away. “Pot’s not gonna do you any good with you this fucked up,” he told her gruffly. 

“How do you know what’s ‘any good’ for me?” Max spat. Her hands clenched into fists, and she wished she could open her eyes to glare at Frank some more. It was the strangest feeling, being drunk with a mind that was progressively trying to get more and more sober. It made her thoughts somewhat sluggish, and her body feel like it had went on without her. And that the world was shaking her like one of her pictures. 

Footsteps signaled Frank walking further back into the RV. “Because I do. I’m not having you puke all over my shit because you got too fucked up.” 

Suddenly a cold bottle was shoved into Max’s hand. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked down to see a cheap beer. The cap had already been popped off, so all she did was put it to her lips and tilt it back for a long drink. She could barely even taste it. 

“I didn’t come here for beer,” she said when she stopped drinking, wincing at her own slurring voice. 

“Yeah, I’m a dealer, not a liquor store, Caulfield.” 

Max looked up to see Frank leaning on the dining table that held his computer. He was holding a beer and looking at her with a look she couldn’t place. Staring at him was making the world spin a little so she closed her eyes and drained the rest of the beer. 

“You killed my buzz, dude,” Max whined. “I was happy and now just…” Fuck Mark Jefferson. 

In fact, fuck the Dark Room, the Prescotts, tornadoes, and  _ fucking  _ butterflies. 

Fuck time travel. 

“Goddamnit,” Frank muttered from somewhere in front of her. 

Max couldn’t stop herself as she started crying. Life had been fucked up since the tornado that never happened. Everything had worked out for the better, with sunshine and rainbows, but Chloe was  _ gone _ and Max couldn’t take it. She hated every minute she couldn’t call up Chloe and go on a stupid adventure. 

Her life felt… empty. 

Then Frank was dragging her again, pulling her further into the RV. She had barely started to struggle when he pushed her to fall back on his bed. The sheets should have smelled old and dirty, but she was pleasantly surprised to find they smelled like cheap laundry detergent. 

“Sleep it off Caulfield,” Frank told her. 

Max sniffled and looked to see a blurry, swaying form of Frank walk back into the main area of the RV. She wanted to get up and leave, but even the thought was too much effort. 

She cried herself to sleep on Frank’s shitty mattress and clean sheets. 

—- 

Max woke to hazy light filtering through dirty windows. Through her headache and twisting stomach, she remembered a little of the night before and groaned. 

“Why am I such a screw up?” Max asked herself, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. 

“You and the rest of this shithole.” 

Blearily, Max looked to the doorway to see Frank leaning against the frame. He looked way too awake and grumpy for Max at the moment. 

Max stood from the mattress and swayed only a little. “I’ll just go. Sorry about last night.” 

“Yeah, Joyce seein’ you stumble out of here like that and she’ll sic her shitstain on me,” Frank told her. “Sit the fuck down out here and have a bowl. It’ll help the hangover.” 

Max watched Frank walk back into the main area of the RV, gaping a little. “Why are you being nice to me?” She called, following him. 

She almost fell into the passenger seat of the RV. Frank slumped onto the turned drivers seat, and began preparing a red, pink, and blue glass pipe. 

“I’m not being nice,” Frank told her. “You paid me last night for shit, and I’m saving my ass from the witch at the diner.” 

Max frowned. “Joyce isn’t a witch.” 

“To you.” 

Pompidou made himself known by laying on Max’s feet and curling his hand over a paw. Great, now Max could never leave. 

Despite her reservations, she still took the pipe from Frank and used it. She closed her eyes on the exhale, and felt herself relax. She didn’t honestly know too much about weed, but Frank had good stuff. 

They passed the pipe back and forth a few minutes, then Frank grabbed a styrofoam box from the dining table and tossed it on her lap. Max recognized it as a to go box from the Two Whales. Her mouth watered at the sight. 

“Eat it. I got too much.” Frank huffed and patted his lap. Pompidou took that sigh to lay his head on Frank’s lap and wag his tail. 

Giving Frank a suspicious look, Max opened the box and dug into the leftover bacon. She found herself relaxing with the weed and dim light in the RV. 

Frank passed the pipe back. 

That started a weird not-friendship with Frank Bowers. Max didn’t know what her life had become. 

—- 

Maybe Max was a little  _ too _ high. 

The world was blurry around the edges and she couldn’t stop munching on the large bag of cheese balls she’d brought over to Frank’s RV. Her mind was calm and her memories didn’t hurt, so she felt happy in that moment. 

If someone had told her a few months ago that she would be here, she’d have thought they were insane. As it was, her visits to Frank were the only things keeping her sane, so  _ whatever.  _

“Did you know Jefferson was going to take me next?” Max murmured into the quiet of the RV. 

Frank gave her a sharp, but confused look. “The fuck you talkin’ about Max?” 

Fingers crusted with cheese dust, Max trailed a hand along her neck. “He used a needle right here. Duct tape to tie me to the chair. He monologued. It was stupid.” 

“Were you one of…” Frank looked awkward, but there was something like fire behind his eyes as he watched her. 

Max laughed and a bitterness came over her happy buzz. “No. Yes. Not officially.” What was she doing? “I wish I could forget all the time. Kate doesn’t remember. I wish I didn’t.” 

“Fuck,” was all Frank said. 

“Or at least able to burn the pictures. They don’t exist, but I want to burn them. It’s so unfair I lost all of Chloe’s pictures.” The bag of cheese balls crinkled as she gripped it. “I feel him sometimes, moving me into poses. Fucks me over the whole day. ‘S why I smoke and drink these days.” 

“I’d kill the fucker if he was in front of me. Would make it last,” Frank told her, heat in his voice. 

“I’d watch. Take photos to commemorate it. Frame ‘em.” Max laughed and it was only slightly less bitter. 

Frank leaned close to her and out a hand on her knee. “Ain’t none of you deserve that shit. You hear me.” 

Max realized how close Frank was. She could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath. It reminded her of Chloe. Maybe that explained her next move. 

Frank froze when her lips gently pressed against his. When she pulled back she saw the shock in his eyes and winced. 

“Sorry,” she told him. “I just.. you, you remind me of-” her throat closed, and she leaned close again. She could feel Frank’s breath against her lips. 

“You sure about this Caulfield?” He whispered. 

“Not even a little bit,” she said with a lopsided smile. “But I want to. I want to forget.” 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ regret this,” Frank told her. His hand slid from her knee, up her thigh and to her hip. 

Max brushed his nose with her own and used her cheese dusted fingers to curl around his neck. “I’m okay with that.” 

Their lips touched again. Like a breath of life, she melted into him. Fire raged into her veins. It burned her from the inside out, his hands trailing up her sides leaving burns in their wake. She gave herself over to the feeling, to Franks hands and lips. 

She burned. Every cold clinical feeling of her memories of the dark room turned to ash in her blood and all she could feel was Frank and his rough hands exploring every curve of her body. She slipped her hands into his hair and ached to mold every inch of her body onto his. 

Forget air, all she needed was Frank’s tongue in her mouth and his hands sliding under her shirt. She pushed herself into his lap and pulled her jacket off. The cool air sent goosebumps down her arms and she moaned. Her head tilted back as he mouthed at her neck. Her hands held onto the back of his shirt like she would drift away into the smokey air of the RV. 

Frank pulled her shirt off started kissing down her chest. Fuck, Max’s mind was lost, and all she could do was ride the waves. She found she didn’t mind drowning in the fire. Behind her closed eyelids, she felt as if she’d become a pyre. 

“Tell me to stop,” Frank whispered into her chest, hands hovering of the clasp of her bra. 

The world should have crashed down around her—what was she  _ doing _ ?—but instead she only looked down at Frank, meeting his dark brown eyes. Were hers as smoldering as his? Was she just playing at being an adult in the moment? 

At no point did she want him to  _ stop. _ For the first time since the Dark Room and Chloe’s funeral she felt  _ alive _ . 

“Please, don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, I need this. I need you.” 

Frank didn’t stop. 

—- 

Max woke feeling sore, but relaxed in a way that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Her dreams had been pleasantly blank. She laid there, on Frank’s mattress, for a while. She was naked, but the RV was warm and the sleeping Frank next to her was a strange comfort. 

Max had lost her virginity to Frank Bowers. Would wonders never cease? 

As quietly as possible, Max slipped out of bed and grabbed an unfolded T-shirt out of Frank’s clean laundry. It covered her enough to hide her lack of underwear as she looked for her bag. Inside lay her camera. With it in hand she walked back to the bedroom and stood at the doorway. 

Frank was lying in a small patch of light. The covers were covering him just barely enough to hide his decency, showcasing his varied and strange tattoos and hinting at the trail of hair that lead downward. For a dude who drank and smoked and ate like shit, he was remarkably fit. The empty space beside him where she had been laying was a clear indicator someone had been laying beside him, and the image made her feel warm and sad at the same time. 

The snap of her picture jerked him awake. 

Frank glared at her as she shook her photo. “Don’t fuckin’ take my picture.” His voice was slurred from sleep, and she took it as a good sign that he stayed where he was instead of jumping to grab her stolen photo. 

“It was an artistic shot, you know,” Max told him. 

“Like I need proof I’m a fuckin’ perv.” Frank frowned up at the ceiling and Max mirrored it. 

“You're not a perv,” she told him. “I’m a consenting adult.” 

“Says the highschooler,” Frank replied, but he looked at her softer than he had before. “Why are you up?” 

Max shook the photo. “Wanted to get a shot of you. The lighting was too good.” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “I’m too tired for this shit, come on.” He lifted the covers and Max obliged. Her camera sat near an overfilled ashtray and some empty beer cans as she slid into the bed beside him. 

He didn’t mind as she curled into his side and rested her head on his chest. “Thank you,” Max whispered. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome for fucking up your life,” Frank replied, eyes closed. 

Huffing, Max tilted her head into his neck and started pressing light kisses down his neck and chest. She let her hand trail lightly down his side, until she started tracing swirls into his hip. Maybe at one point in her life whatever she was doing with Frank would have been a mistake, but in the moment he was like water in the desert. Or a cleansing fire regrowing a forest anew. Or something else poetic. 

Grunting, Frank moved so he was hovering over her. “Don’t you know what sleep means?” 

Max twisted her legs so they wrapped around his waist and gave him her best shiteating grin. “We can do that afterwards.” 

Frank rolled his eyes, but actually smiled at her. It was a sharp, almost broken thing, but it lit up his face like nothing else did. “You’re a pain, Max.” 

“A pain that wants to have sex again.” 

Frank snorted, but he bent to kiss her, morning breath and all. 

—- 

_ Snapshots and Letters and Texts  _

A Polaroid of Joyce bending over the photo taker, pouring coffee into a chipped cup. Joyce is smiling sadly, like all her smiles those days. At the bar of the Two Whales Diner, almost out of frame, sits Frank. He’s looking over his shoulder at Joyce or maybe whoever is behind the camera. His face is distant, but not quite sad. There is a star drawn as a caption. 

A four by six shot of Max. She’s sitting in a damaged parking lot, hugging Pompidou and grinning. She’s dressed in Chloe’s old tattered skinny jeans, a skull faced tank top, and her own gray hoodie. The back of the photograph reads “Max loves Pompidou.” 

**Warren:** Mad Max! There’s a horror marathon going on at the drive in! Brooke and I are kidnapping Kate to go with us! You should come, my dude!! 

**Max:** sure! Sounds fun (^_^) 

**Warren:** Max ALIVE AT LAST! I think I even saw you smile yesterday! This is great! 

**Max:** Warren, shut up 

**Warren:** Shutting up! 

A four by six selfie of Max, Dana, and Kate. All three are in pajama’s with overdone make up. Max has two pink and blue stripes in her hair. 

A Polaroid of Frank petting Pompidou, there’s a beach sunset behind him. 

A Polaroid of Kate reading a self made children’s book to a group of kids in hospital outfits. There is a star drawn as the caption. 

A Polaroid of Warren and Brooke holding hands in front of Blackwell, the sunset making them silhouettes. 

**Stella:** max what were you doing at that guys place? 

**Stella:** dog guy 

**Max:** well how does anyone know him? 

**Stella:** max caulfield you are the last person to be into that shit 

**Max:** surprise surprise. Maybe don’t tell anyone where you saw me okay? 

**Stella:** like anyone would believ me

**Max:** seriously, Stella. 

**Stella:** ok ok! can you get me a discount? 

**Max:** no 

**Stella:** how big is his you know what? 

**Max:** NO 

A Polaroid selfie of Max and Frank. Max is smirking into the camera, while Frank pushes his face into the top of Max’s head. He’s flipping the bird, and both of their shoulders are bare. 

A Polaroid of Joyce and David at their kitchen table. David looking down at Joyce sadly, while Joyce is smiling through tears at the camera, holding a small picture of a grumpy young Chloe. There is a star drawn under the caption. 

A four by six shot of Max smoking from a bong in Frank’s RV. She’s wearing a ripped red flannel, tattered skinny jeans, and a white doe shirt. The back reads “gross Frank!” 

A Polaroid shot of Daniel DaCosta drawing in his sketchbook. He has a black eye, but he smiles at the camera. There is a star drawn in the caption. 

**Warren:** ok Kate is our DD, Stella is bringing booze, Dana and Victoria are bringing entertainment, you’re apparently bringing “goodies”, and somehow we got jocks playing security. 

**Warren:** are you ready for the graduation party of a lifetime! 

**Max:** as long as it doesn’t revive the vortex party I’m all for it! 

**Warren:** vortex is vor-gone Mad Max! This is going to be great! 

A Polaroid shot of Victoria and Kate in graduation robes. Victoria is holding Kate’s hands, face earnest. There is a star drawn in the caption. 

A six by four shot of Max holding a diploma and grinning wide. Her hair is completely dyed pink, with a single blue stripe in her bangs. 

A Polaroid of Chloe's grave, a bouquet of blue and pink flowers sitting on the gravestone. There is a star drawn in the caption. 

A Polaroid of Frank asleep in bed, covers showing he is probably naked. A graduation cap is on the table next to the bed. 

_ Frank,  _

_ I’ll always come back to Arcadia Bay. Someway, somehow in this life. I’ve learned to not mess with destiny.  _

_ Keep in touch, and I will too. Maybe I’ll show you around New York when I’m famous. Or when I’m a starving artist, too.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Max  _

A Polaroid of Frank standing on the top of the Empire State Building, looking into the distance with awe. There is a star drawn in the caption. 

A black and white newspaper picture of Max standing in front of a Gallery Showcase. All the pictures behind her are Polaroids with stars drawn in the captions. The heading of the newspaper reads “Local Blackwell graduate, Maxine Caulfield, 20, shows off her ‘Everyday Heroics’ collection at famous gallery.” 

A four by six photo of Max and Frank posing in front of Arcadia Bay's Lighthouse. Max with pink and blue hair and is wearing a casual white sundress, while Frank is wearing a white button up and ripped jeans. The caption on the back reads "Wedding Day 6/22/2017 Goodbye Arcadia Bay Hello Future"

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I'm probably one of the few people who ships this, but while it's a terrible ship at least it's not Mark/Max (Jk, but I don't get that ship, you do you boo.)


End file.
